


Pull it Away!

by orphan_account



Series: Humiliating Biases [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Humiliation, Im warning you, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, No Plot/Plotless, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Humiliation, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Situational Humiliation, dont fucking read the ending, dont skip where the good shit happens, well like the end end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 21:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15614967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: And there it was, last minute. He could feel himself being ripped off slowly and slowly with no mercy of those "fans."





	Pull it Away!

**Author's Note:**

> You guys, this is just fiction. If you get triggered then don't read it, please. Tags are already a warning, so if you don't like the tags then you might as well click off. I'm warning you, this contains public humiliation/rape.
> 
> We don't encourage this, and if you do then you must be crazy. REMEMBER, THIS IS JUST FICTION! WE DON'T SUPPORT RAPE OR HUMILIATION. THIS IS JUST FOR FUN.

A crowd of clicking cameras and bright flashes covered their vision as they looked down, security guards on the side of them, protecting them from any unusual fans. It was stable, and that was pretty good. Mark was like the others, just minding their business as he continued to walk, his eyes following the patterns of how he walks - just minding his business. None of the members talked to each other, just minor skinship as the screaming of fangirls and fanboys filled his ears, piercing his eardrums. How can their screams be so high-pitched?

But it wasn't anything unusual, I mean he was an idol, so he expected this riot to go down especially between a pack of famous celebrities in SK. Prints of shoes were stepped on, again and again, making the airport floor dirtier as mud and other elements clung onto the floor. Ah. A new problem rose up to the top. His belt was loosening. It wasn't a problem though, he could fight it off as he pushed his hands into his pockets, keeping his pants from falling on the floor. He just thought about how his stylists' made him wear baggy pants especially today.

A soft pat was placed on his shoulder, as he smiled softly. A cacophony of screeches overwhelmed him - this wave louder than the rest. For a moment he was disorientated. All Mark could see was a flash of an object in his peripheral; flying towards him. It dropped right under where his foot would land, and soon enough he found himself falling - almost in slow motion. His body hit the ground with a thud, as his hands had been in his pocket the whole time. The boy let out a whine, slipping his hands out so that he could place his palms against the filthy epoxy flooring. Before he could push himself up, a tug on his clothing could be felt and before he knew it an icy breeze hit his exposed skin. 

Looking around, Mark saw shocked faces but also multiple flashing lights. His members stared in horror as the staff ushered them onwards. Rabid fans squealed, pushing away security guards in order to get a closer look at the boy in his more natural form. At this point, the boy swiveled his head to face his back, eyes widening in shock at the realization that he had been undressed. Crimson flooded to his cheeks in embarrassment. He knew for sure photos of this moment would already be uploaded on multiple social medias. There was no escaping this. 

Instead of his mind packing on itself - nothing had been on his mind. He couldn't move his body - it was like he lost complete control of it. The ear piercing screams had stopped. It seemed like everything stopped now. Maybe he was in a state of shock, but he didn't know. He felt a strong tug on his arm, pulling him up. His feet didn't work, as they stepped over eachother frequently while he was forced to walk. He could hear the deep grunts and screams of the security guards in front of him, as he set his eyes on the quick pace of how the others were walking.

The situation was push and pull - literally. He could feel thousands of hands push him to the side, to the back, to the front. Sometimes he could feel them pull him into the crowd of fans. He wasn't going insane, and neither was this a nightmarish dream. It was reality. His focused set of eyes on the member's pace weren't focusing on that anymore, instead, they were wandering. Looking at every corner, his hands gripped tightly at the sleeve of the security guard. Sweat smeared across his smooth skin, feeling soft touches accompanying hard grips on the muscle of his legs, making his grip on the sleeve harder and harder, like his life depended on it.

Multiple hands latched onto his calves and thighs; squeezing on with a deathly grip. He winced in pain. A cold hand circled around his petite wrist, bending his arm behind his back. Mark cried out, releasing his hold on the other’s sleeve and allowing himself to fall once more - this time into a pit of roaring fans. His breathing grew shallower and his eyes watered. Millions of cold, unforgiving hands felt him up and down, pulling him in every possible direction with as much force as possible so that the boy felt himself being torn apart. His limbs ached; even more so than they did after long hours of practice. It felt like hell on earth. 

More and more hands - they felt like a swarm of bees, pain spreading throughout everywhere now instead of only his limbs, his eyes burning with tears as they poured and poured onto the floor, the sight of fans that seemed like they wanted to devour him whole - like he was some type of rare food that no one could get their hands on. He could only shake in fear as their hands touched his thighs, his chest, the hands acting like snakes, slithering around his body smoothly but at the same time, roughly. They pulled on the cloth of his shirt, giving tiny holes and rips throughout the clothes he was wearing. He could feel the only piece of cloth protecting his bottom fall slowly and slowly. 

Soon enough he was bare; utterly and completely exposed. A majority of fans held their phones out, most likely recording the scene. Some took advantage of the situation. One of the more bolder and sasaeng fans knelt down in front of the boy’s exposed dick, pressing their warm lips against the tip and sliding a wet tongue over the slit. Mark screeched, tears creating a pool beside his head. The sensation was somewhat pleasurable yet he fought the feeling. He both disliked and enjoyed the way she bobbed her head yet screeched more at the audience before him: recording his every move. An intimate experience such as this was expected to be full of love and tenderness, yet mark found himself half-naked on the cold, muddy flooring of an airport with an audience of possibly a hundred, maybe more.

He couldn't help but slide into the phase of being filled with absolute pleasure - so much that the tears weren't from the humiliation, they were forming because of the high on the pleasure he was right now. His thoughts of how humiliating this was, of how people were recording him were flushed in a toilet, his mind becoming foggy with heat, just like a sauna. The only thing that he focused on was how good his body felt, how good his dick felt. Ecstasy filled his entire body, shaking hands becoming needy as they pulled on the hair of the person - because all he wanted right now was more, and more. It's what he needed, his life practically depending on the pleasure he was getting. His own moans filled his eardrums, echoing throughout his mind as the person continued and continued - feeling his climax reach behind him, he was close. The feeling had ripped through him slowly, like ripping a paper. His pupils dilated, his mouth mewling as saliva and tears mixed with eachother, cameras quickly flashing as fans that tried to get them away from him were flooded and stepped over. Mouths were all over his body, sucking on his skin like syrup, bruises, and hickeys forming on his sensitive skin. 

Precum split from his hole - licked up immediately by the other. His stomach twisted then released at once, spurting out an off-white clear liquid by which the fan simply let spout onto her and his stomach - something the girls and boys surrounding him squealed especially loud at. Moments passed, with Mark slowly regaining his self-control and realizing the terrible situation he had gotten himself in. Luckily enough fans began to scatter, with big burly men separating them. Soon enough they surrounded him, shoving his previously discarded pants at him and allowing the boy to make himself decent. He quickly dressed, almost crying and breaking down of what he just experienced - because everything had flown back to him. 

But he couldn't, he was still on camera and he had to do that, right? He didn't cry, as he rushed himself to the van with the others. He just wanted to die more than anything right now - to curl up into a ball and disappear from the world. Maybe he was still phased, but it sure didn't feel like it. 

Just kill him right now. He might as well quit being an idol, right here and now.


End file.
